“Now that I have eaten I feel sleepy,” said the American. “I suppose that heap of rags in the corner is meant for a bed. I will make one.”
He picked up a narrow mattress, which had been rolled up before it was laid away, and spread it out on the floor. Then he selected a quilt, and, stretching himself out, spread it over him.
“That walk with my valise quite tuckered me out,” he said. “Just call me when the carriage is ready.” Bernard and Walter Cunningham could not so readily throw off the burden of anxiety. They sat together upon the bench and discussed the situation.
“We are in a bad scrape, Bernard,” said his friend, “and I have led you into it.”
“I think we will get out of it after a while,” said Bernard, trying to be cheerful.
“Yes; if absolutely necessary, I will persuade Mr. Sanderson to join me in paying the ransom, though I should hate to let these rascals reap the reward of their knavery.”
They were served with supper at six o’clock. Scarcely was this over when the three bandits entered the room, accompanied by a man of thirty-five or thereabouts, who looked like a clerk or bookkeeper. It was soon evident that he was present as an interpreter.
“Gentlemen,” he said, in tolerable English, “my friends here, who are not acquainted with your language, have asked me to act as interpreter. They wish to confer with you about your release.”
“That’s the talk,” said Amos Sanderson, with alacrity. “A release is what we are anxious about.”
“I may say that you won’t have to stay here any longer than you desire.”